Previously:

"I just saw a sign saying '15 kilometers to London'. We're supposed to be leaving London, not driving toward it."

I put my head back with a gasp of exasperation, covering my tiny terror. She put her little map reading flashlight on as I continued in the direction we were headed...London airport.

*********

Cordelia murmured, more to herself than to me. "I've got it. We were originally on A36 and somehow got onto A34. So, we're up here and need to be down there."

Raising her volume for my benefit, she said in a short breath,"Okay, so you need to take a sharp right onto A339. It's right up here." She waited 'til she was certain I had complied. "Good. Now follow this back, 'til we get to A36 again."

This happened so many times, I felt like I was in the movie 'Ground Hog Day'. It is in situations like this, I know why I hate that movie. I was getting ready to cry. As my tears swelled up, I became aware Cordelia was feeling responsible, as she was the navigator. We comforted and reassured each other.

I must have finally eliminated all of wrong routes. It was like when I have tried to get out of Boston, Massachusetts, along Storrow Drive. I can't tell you how many times I realized the exit in my rearview mirror was the one I needed to take. Around and around, until I finally nabbed it.

As unreal as it seemed, we were headed west, a short distance from Torquay, our temporary destination. From there, we would proceed to the town where Cordelia's harp therapy course would be taking place.

*********

Rain was still pounding our heads as we lugged the last of our luggage and packs into the Inn in Torquay, named Inn Torquay. We were way beyond our Eastern Standard bedtime and exhausted from well over an hour of frustration. On nearly forgotten empty stomachs, we went right to sleep.

The morning was a more relaxed routine. For breakfast, we had coffee and donuts, provided by the Inn. We causally inspected the map to get to the cottages where we would be staying for the duration. We wanted to avoid any repeat performances from the previous night's ordeal.

The trip to Truro was quite simple. We just headed onto A30 West, then dipped south on the same route. In no time, we saw signs directing us there. We were so confident, we were able to quickly stop at a little 'mom & pop' type store. We got a few things to cook up for supper and to take care of us for a few days.

That was some difference from the previous strangling trip out of London. We never would have dared stop anywhere. I don't even remember seeing anything except confusing route numbers. What route name has three digits to it with a letter in front of it, anyway?

That is a lot to remember, and quickly read and process all instantaneously in the dark, in the rain, in a foreign car, on foreign roads in a foreign country. A few of the contributing factors to our victorious arrival were the timing and weather. It was daylight and no longer raining, for the moment.

Cordelia explained one of the demonstrations I would get to see. "The way they work it, everyone will be able to experience how certain chords affected them. I know you will be fascinated with observing yourself and others, expressing how they were impacted on physical, emotional, and spiritual levels. I loved it when I took part in part one, of my harp therapy course. It is actually the basis of our participation, in promoting healing in individuals."

She said part one of the course, was in the central section of the United States, a year or so ago. I can't remember where, exactly. She had recently been notified, the second part of the course would be held some place in England, about which we were soon to learn more.

Our ride up the inclining driveway, revealed a panorama of small cottages appearing like something out of the old world. I'd seen similar ones on some of my British TV shows. I thought they might be props staged there, to create an ambiance.

It occurred to me, at that moment, we, in the United States, live in a very young nation. We had no idea how many layers of history there were in that country, currently introducing itself to us. Those buildings of gray field stone, with wooden shingles for roofing, stood there, dispassionately housing tragic historical secrets.

Upon entering, the first thing we noticed, was not the lovely quaint furnishings, but the energy. Remember, I told you, both of us are dowsers. That, combined with the fact we are empaths, like lightning rods, attracting bolts of surging energy. Both of us are as impressive as a hot ball of wax recording impressions.

Attempting to resist our sense of deep sadness, we reminded each other, it was a time for joy. I told Cordelia, if this sense of darkness persisted, we would attend to its source.
It was time to mix with the other cottages and to find out which one was holding the classes.